


somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond

by themorninglark



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Future - Kinda, M/M, Mostly Suga thinking about stuff, Suga introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:25:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4130997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/themorninglark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suga has learned to solve his problems, save for one.</p><p>It's their graduation day, and he's staring at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond

**Author's Note:**

> Title shamelessly stolen from [e. e. cummings' beautiful poem](http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/somewhere-i-have-never-travelledgladly-beyond), because I am a fail at titles and it has all the sweetness that Daisuga have in my mind.
> 
> Also, I wrote this for Suga's birthday! Happy birthday, actual prince of my heart.

Suga has learned to solve his problems, mostly because he's tired of waiting for them to solve themselves. And he's proud, quietly, justly proud, of the way his patient fingers untangle knots.

He'll open doors, not with a bang but a gentle push; he'll come clean about his shame as he steps out from behind Kageyama's shadow, he'll go to Asahi's classroom and look for him if that's what it takes. He'll talk to Coach Ukai about the difficulty of decisions, he'll talk to Kageyama and Hinata, he'll tell them to do what he _can't_ and do what they have to, catch them in courtyards and corridors and lay down his words like a carpet.

Shake off the dust, say, quiet and determined, _here's how it is._

The tapestry that Suga weaves is plain. The thread is rough. It's nothing special. But with his own two hands, he's cobbled it together.

There's just that one corner left undone, that one problem he hasn't solved yet.

It's their graduation day.

He's staring at it.

 

* * *

 

"Suga."

 _Suga,_ it says, _he_ says, in a voice that lands like a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Daichi," says Suga, with a smile.

 

* * *

 

"See, the thing about volleyball is - "

Suga stops, hitches his bag up on his shoulder and wonders how far he can carry this train of thought without sounding like a lame cheeseball.

Daichi watches, and waits. Their footsteps make little shuffling sounds on the gravel, Daichi's firm and solid, Suga's light, kicking up the occasional dust cloud.

"Is - that you never really feel alone," Suga muses.

He stares up into the sky. Imagines these hands of his setting a toss, sees the ball soaring through the air, meeting the spiker's own hands perfectly. _Connecting_.

"You're always surrounded by your teammates," says Suga, smiling at the thought. "We're all here for each other. You feel like… _ah_ , everyone here is my comrade. My friend."

It's one of Suga's favourite things about this sport. The camaraderie. It is also, in the case of Sawamura Daichi, a little annoyingly inconvenient.

Daichi nods. "Yeah. That's true."

There it is, thinks Suga, shooting Daichi a fleeting glance out of the corner of his eye. That little upward quirk to the corner of his lips, the way he holds himself a little taller, squaring those broad, dependable shoulders. That's Daichi when they talk about volleyball.

They are a month and a half into their first year of high school, four weeks into the Karasuno volleyball club, and they have not talked about very much else.

"That's why," Suga adds, airily, "you should come over and do your homework sometime."

He hears the grin in his own voice as it drifts carelessly on the wind, gives Daichi a deliberate, cheeky one to match as he clasps his hands behind his back, restless fingers fiddling.

Daichi stares. "Huh?"

 _So that I'll know if we're really friends outside of volleyball,_ thinks Suga.

"Because that's what friends do, right?" is what he says instead.

Daichi narrows his eyes at Suga, but four weeks isn't enough for him to have learnt all of Suga's secrets (yet, not just yet), and Suga gets away with another one of those smiles _just_ this side of unknowable, brimming with confidence and the tinges of a hopeful wish.

Daichi smiles back.

"If you say so," he says.

"I do," says Suga, and he laughs.

 

* * *

 

"All packed?" asks Suga.

He tosses the question out with a light touch, the way he's used to setting for Daichi. Daichi doesn't need much force behind the ball. He brings his own.

"Yeah," says Daichi. "I finished this morning. I was rushing before school."

"No wonder you were late. I thought you weren't going to show up to your own graduation."

There's a little bit of barbed truth to Suga's cheery repartee, like there always is, and Daichi merely quirks a reproving eyebrow in response.

 

* * *

 

They're behind an empty gym one evening, getting in some much-needed after-hours practice, when Suga confesses his selfishness.

He doesn't sugarcoat it. That's not his style.

"I'm selfish, you know," he says.

"Oh?" says Daichi.

He shoots Suga a quizzical look, jumps up to spike a ball that Suga sets to him. It flies, straight and true, into the dirt of the courtyard.

"Oooh." Suga smiles in appreciation. "That was nice."

"It was a good toss," says Daichi.

Suga walks over to pick up the ball, and dusts it off.

"What do you mean, _you're selfish_?" asks Daichi.

"I mean," says Suga, lightly, as he turns around and throws the ball into the air, "I want to play."

In that moment, as the ball descends, Suga's gaze flickers over to Daichi's side and picks out a point near his torso. His right arm rises. Pulls back. Swings forward, and down.

He watches the ball fly towards Daichi with unerring accuracy, and feels satisfied.

Daichi plants his feet firmly on the ground, receives it without even having to move.

"Nice pinpoint serve," he says.

"Thanks," says Suga, with a grin.

"It's not selfish to want to play," says Daichi, as his arms connect solidly, sends the ball flying back upwards. " _I_ want to play. You should too."

Suga sprints a few steps to reach the ball, catches it out of the air instead of returning it. He stops to recover his breath. On the other side of the court, Daichi's breathing heavily too, bent over with his hands on his knees. They've been at this for a while now. The sun is setting.

Suga turns the volleyball over a few times. Feels the familiar weight of it in his hands, the ridges running beneath his fingers. It's a shape he knows well.

"Even if I'm not good enough?" he says.

It's funny. He should probably feel more afraid than he does, admitting his weakness like this.

Somehow, if it's Daichi, it's okay.

Daichi nods. " _Especially_ if you're not good enough."

He doesn't bother telling Suga, _but you are good enough_. They're friends, now, after all. And yet, there's a different sort of reassurance in that slight incline of his head and the steadiness of his voice, a reassurance that he has absolutely no doubt that one day, Suga _will_ be good enough.

"I'd be more worried if you _didn't_ want to play," says Daichi wryly.

Suga's grip tightens round the soft synthetic leather of the volleyball.

"I just want to stand on the court," he says, voice dropping low, almost speaking to himself. Daichi hears him anyway.

"Everyone does. That's why we're in the volleyball club," says Daichi.

"Even if - even if it's just for a short while, I wish - "

Suga makes himself pause with a quick breath. He feels the words tripping out of him now, feels like he's babbling, just a little bit, but he can't help it, it's all pouring forth.

"I _wish_ I could play," he finishes, hearing what sounds like petulance in his own voice. He wonders if his cheeks are turning pink. He hopes they're not.

Daichi makes no sign either way, merely nods again.

"You know, Suga," he says, "it's okay to be selfish, sometimes."

And Suga, because he's spent his words, because he can't quite take in, right now, the truth of what Daichi's just said to him, takes a step back, and finds himself responding with a flick of his wrist.

The ball flies into the air. His arm pulls back instinctively, and he smacks it down.

His serve is low, and he doesn't expect Daichi to receive it; but Daichi, as he does, _does_. Even as his eyes track the trajectory of the ball, he's throwing himself to the ground. His arm stretches out, and the back of his palm flings the ball upwards, towards Suga.

Suga, unprepared, punches wildly, and the ball drops off to the side.

He watches it fall. Thinks, with a clenched fist, _I'll grow stronger._

_I'll stand on the court. I will play, one day._

 

* * *

 

In their third year, when he sets a quick attack that wins his side a point, and he hears Daichi say, from the other side of the net -

_"See, you guys? That's because Suga's a full-fledged setter too."_

Suga feels like he might fly to pieces.

Daichi's back is to him, but he doesn't have to see his face to know he's beaming with pride.

 

* * *

 

"Walk with me, Suga?"

"Mmm. Okay."

Winding through the crowds of excited graduates, down the corridors and the stairs of school, Suga follows Daichi.

It's not in him to follow, usually; he prefers setting the way himself. But he wants to take in this view of Daichi's back while he can. He wants to memorise the sturdy shape of it, the way he stands, the way he walks.

Daichi's so often protecting all their backs that no one really knows what _his_ looks like.

 

* * *

 

It takes Suga more than a year from that time to learn that it's okay to be selfish, and not just over volleyball.

He wants to keep his friends close. He is selfish over Asahi, and something in him snaps like that broom in the closet after that Inter High loss to Datekou. Watching Nishinoya storm out the doors, looking at Asahi's empty spot in their rotation next practice, there is a part of Suga that feels almost personally offended, not by the behaviour of his teammates but by his own inability to do anything about it.

He tells Daichi that, afterwards, because Daichi can see it on his face anyway, and if Suga doesn't put it into words he'll accuse him (rightly) of trying to hold back on him.

"I'm just frustrated," he says, throwing himself back on the floor of his bedroom, with perhaps a little more drama than is _strictly_ necessary. "I know we just need to give Asahi time. But I wish there was something I could do."

Daichi leans forward over their English homework, props his chin up on the fist of one hand. He sighs.

"You can't solve _every_ problem, Suga."

They're in the safety of his home, and it's just the two of them, which is why Suga turns his gaze round to stare up at Daichi, and goes, " _Why?_ "

It's a child's question, he knows, and he's not quite a child anymore.

Daichi smiles.

"You're not _Ultraman_. If you think you are, I have some bad news for you."

Suga reaches out, lays a light, questioning hand on Daichi's forearm. "Daichi… how _do_ you know I'm not Ultraman? Have you ever _met_ Ultraman?"

He says this with all the seriousness he can muster, but when Daichi rolls his eyes and lets out a long-suffering groan, he can't stifle his laughter any more and it comes bubbling out of him, and Daichi joins in with a hearty chuckle of his own.

At times like these, Suga feels _unleashed_ , like he could run into the wind and feel it fresh on his face, like he could smile so hard his cheeks hurt.

And yes, Suga is selfish over Daichi; his first and best friend from high school, the boy who came up to him during lunch break one day and said _I see volleyball shoes in your bag, did you sign up for the club too?_ , the boy who walked by his side to their very first practice, and who told him, behind the gym one evening, that it was okay to be selfish.

That it was okay to _want_ , to hope.

For a kid whom everyone used to call so _nice_ , so easy-going, such a pleasure, Suga's just now realising - in his second year of high school - that perhaps, he isn't so readily contented after all. That there are things and people he wants with all his heart, and he won't rest till he gets them - or tries his very best to, with what strength he has.

And Suga knows he is selfish over Daichi in a different way from everything and everyone else.

 

* * *

 

They do not speak as they walk. There's no need to. There's something about today, graduation day, something about the buzz in the air and the excitable hum of palpable emotion, that's already noisy enough for the both of them eclipsed.

Daichi's calm presence says more than words. Suga hopes that his slightly nervous one does, too.

They fall into step after a while, strolling side by side, as they reach the far ends of the school grounds and the crowds thin out. The pace that Daichi has set is leisurely, unhurried.

They do not have all the time in the world together, Suga and Daichi, but it's nice to pretend, for now, that they do.

 

* * *

 

"Tokyo?"

Daichi nods. "Yeah. I thought it'd be a good idea. Will you come with me?"

It is, indeed, a good idea, and Suga affirms this with a nod. "Sure. When?"

"Next weekend. Kuroo said he'd meet us."

Daichi holds out his phone to Suga, shows him a text message from Nekoma High's captain Kuroo Tetsurou, sent yesterday evening.

 _From: Kuroo Tetsurou_  
_Subject: Tokyo?  
_ _Yeah, sounds good. I'd like to check out universities too. We can go together. Are you bringing Sugawara?_

"Why does he ask that like I'm a piece of luggage?" Suga complains, crossing his arms.

Daichi chuckles. "I asked him if he was bringing Kozume. Is that good enough payback for you?"

Suga considers Nekoma's setter, mulls over Daichi's question with all the gravity it merits. "I don't think Kozume-kun would object to being called a piece of luggage."

"No, you're probably right," says Daichi agreeably.

Suga sniffs, draws himself up to his full not-very-tall height (and why, damn it, are so many of his _kouhai_ taller than him?), and tells Daichi, "Please inform Kuroo-kun that I will be coming _on my own_ , thank you very much."

"Telling him now," says Daichi, tapping at his phone.

Suga shamelessly glances over at the message Daichi's sending. _Yes, I am,_ it says.

He punches Daichi on the shoulder. Daichi receives the punch with a solid stoicism.

And so it is that Suga finds himself in the window seat of the _shinkansen_ one Saturday morning, getting off at Shinjuku station where Kuroo, in his red jacket, barely manages to find them among the crush of weekend daytrippers converging on the heart of Japan's capital.

They've been here a few times now, but always for volleyball. They've never really had time for sightseeing. The only thing Suga's really internalised from those trips is that not every single pointy tower he sees is Tokyo Tower, and that he can relax a great deal more without Tanaka here calling everyone _city boy_ like he's challenging them to a fight.

There are a mind-boggling number of universities here. They have selected just three that they can cover, in the course of a day; but beyond campus corridors of red brick and concrete, and their ever-growing bags of prospectuses and brochures, it's the city itself that's an experience. At every turn, Suga is distracted by something in a shop window or an outrageous hat that someone's wearing, at every street corner, he marvels at the polite, affected nonchalance of the milling crowds.

"Honestly," Kuroo remarks, his expression candidly blasé, "I don't really care for the city myself."

Suga looks at him, puzzled. "But you live here."

"I live in _Nerima_. Near Ikebukuro. It's a damn nice neighbourhood. Much less crowded."

Daichi's been fairly quiet all day. Suga knows how it is, with him; he's taking stock, he's letting everything sink in, and when he's ready, he'll speak.

They end up in Nerima for an early dinner at a family restaurant, decked out in cheery yellow lights and walnut wood furniture, before catching the last train back up north. They end up in Nerima because Kuroo insists that _Kenma wants to eat with them_ , although, looking at Kozume's politely neutral expression across the table from him, Suga can't actually tell if he has any particular opinion either way. He doesn't look like he _minds_ , though - and that's something, he supposes, for Kozume.

Over his bowl of shoyu ramen, Daichi finally voices his thoughts.

"I think I'll apply here," he says.

Suga chews his mouthful of super spicy tonkatsu curry and takes a moment to revel in his total lack of surprise.

"Really?" Kuroo asks, eyebrow raised.

Daichi nods. "Yeah. I hope I get in."

He doesn't elaborate on his reasons. Suga sees Kozume take a sip of his apple juice, watches his keen gaze flick quickly, from Daichi, to Kuroo, and finally to rest on him, contemplative.

The fleeting, perennial question of _why me?_ flashes through Suga's head as meets those catlike eyes for a split second.

It doesn't last long. Kozume is observant in that way only the quiet types are, and Suga knows very well _why me_ , knows that Kozume understands his feelings in this moment because he's the same type of best friend.

Best friend, not to someone with blind ambition, but something far more potent, the kind of ambition that's careful and planned and _grounded_ , and full of a firm, steadfast determination. Daichi's always known he can do well. He's always believed in his own potential.

At the exact moment that Suga feels so proud of Daichi he could burst, he thinks sternly to himself:

_This has gone on long enough, Sugawara Koushi._

 

* * *

 

As promised, Daichi applies to his chosen university in Tokyo, and as Suga has predicted, he gets in.

As promised, Suga applies as well, and to his mild surprise, he, too, is admitted.

Daichi accepts his place.

Suga does not. He accepts, instead, an offer at a local university; it's a course he wants to pursue and he likes the environment there. He feels no particular attraction towards the neon lights of Tokyo.

Suga sets his own path. He does not follow.

And he knows that Daichi, too, is proud of him, in his own way.

 

* * *

 

"Hey, Daichi."

They are on the last train back to Miyagi-ken, and Suga's staring out of the window as he says this, because it is taking all of his courage to voice the words. He doesn't know if he can go on, if he turns to face Daichi.

He takes a deep breath, and does it anyway.

"What's up?" asks Daichi. "You've been really quiet, Suga."

Trust Daichi to notice, as always.

"You know how I said, when Kageyama first joined… I was scared. I was hiding behind his overwhelmingly skilled shadow. And I was relieved."

Daichi nods. "Yeah. I remember."

"I think I've been doing that with you too," says Suga.

This revelation does not seem to startle Daichi, and Suga feels, privately, that he is a little disappointed by the lack of visible response; then again, very little startles Daichi.

"What do you mean?" asks Daichi, quietly.

And Suga thinks, Daichi's also really, really good at knowing how to draw forth Suga's words, bit by bit, plain and clumsy as they may be as they come out of his mouth.

"I've been scared," Suga admits. "Of - of what _I_ could be to you."

Against all odds, despite every tingling nerve in his body right now and the way his fingers are gripping the armrest of the seat, _so tight_ , he finds a smile stealing across his face. He can't _not_ smile, when he's telling Daichi his whole truth at last.

Daichi's deep brown eyes are unfathomable, unfathomably intense, and Suga sighs lightly, throws himself back against his seat and stares up at the train's metal ceiling. The _shinkansen_ goes _whoosh, whoosh_ in the night as they enter a tunnel. Suga is struck by the feeling that they are the only two people in the world right now, in this cocoon. The thought is a comforting one.

He's no less scared; he feels a little braver, nonetheless.

"I've been hiding behind - behind something _safe_ that we've got. And I was relieved that we were friends. That we were best friends. Secretly, I wanted more, but I thought, _maybe this is good enough._ "

He turns towards Daichi, smiles with the sweet, helpless resignation of someone with nothing left to hide.

"Suga - "

Daichi sighs in exasperation. His eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Will you stop thinking you always have to settle for second best?" says Daichi.

 _It's okay to be selfish,_ Suga recalls, and he knows Daichi's thinking it too.

"You deserve what you want," Daichi adds.

Suga eyes Daichi warily, wondering if a part of him is afraid, just a little, of what he wants.

"What do _you_ want, Daichi?" he asks.

He serves the question at Daichi's feet like a challenge, tacking on a purposeful tailspin on the end as his voice pitches upwards, expectantly.

Daichi, as he does, as Suga _should_ have known he does, doesn't miss a beat.

He hears the edge in Suga's voice, and puts a stop to _that_ particular attack in the boldest way possible as he leans over the edge of the armrest between them.

Daichi's hand on his hand is strong. It always is.

Daichi's lips on his lips are rough and dry.

When they part, Suga reaches into his pocket and offers him his lip balm, with a smile that's gunning for innocent cheek but is probably, he knows, _absolutely_ the wrong side of far-gone giddy-headed silliness, which really kills the entire effect of the moment.

He's rewarded with the sight of Daichi blushing furiously, for the first time he can remember.

 

* * *

 

As their feet find their way to the place behind the gym, where they once tossed to each other after hours, Suga feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He reaches for it.

 _New Message_  
_From: Hinata Shouyou_  
_Of course!! Here it is!_

 **_Attachment  
_ _Contact Card:_ ** _Kozume Kenma_

Suga smiles, a quiet little smile to himself. He saves the attachment.

"Who's that?" Daichi asks, breaking their silence.

"Hinata," says Suga, and shows him his phone.

Daichi looks surprised. "Kozume's number?"

"Mmm," says Suga. "I asked Hinata for it. I was thinking, I should get in touch with him the next time I visit Tokyo. He'll probably be lonely with Kuroo-kun at university."

A warm, knowing smile breaks out on Daichi's face. "That's just like you. So... when are you coming to Tokyo?"

"I haven't decided yet," says Suga, archly.

Daichi's feet come to a stop.

"Listen, Suga - " he starts, then pauses, with a sigh.

And Suga puts his phone back into his pocket, clasps his hands in front of him.

This is their last problem, something they have danced around in between an endless stream of cram school lessons, tests and exams, of stolen kisses and whispered words in their bedrooms, of hands tightly held at bus stops when no one else is around. This is the problem of _them_ , of Sawamura Daichi and Sugawara Koushi, once they are no longer volleyball captain and vice-captain, no longer classmates.

Just two teenage boys at the crossroads of their paths in life, one heading south, one heading north.

Suga squeezes his palms together tighter, and looks down at the ground.

He feels Daichi step close. Take his hands in his, rub his thumb across the backs of his knuckles. It's a familiar, reassuring gesture.

"It's just Tokyo, isn't it?" says Suga, with an easy smile. "It's only two and a half hours by _shinkansen_. And it's not even like you'll be in a different _timezone_."

He knows his heart is pounding, so hard that it hurts.

He knows Daichi can feel his pulse in his wrists going haywire.

"Still," Suga admits, "I guess it'll be hard."

"Yeah," says Daichi.

His grip tightens round Suga's hands, and it dawns on Suga: so _this_ what it's like to be held by someone who never wants to let go.

It is a wonderful feeling. It is ephemeral.

Daichi says nothing more. Neither does Suga. He knows Daichi is biding his time, waiting, for Suga to make his choice.

 

* * *

 

 _What do you want, Sugawara Koushi?_ he asks himself, under a spring sky as he walks with Asahi and the volleyball juniors, away from school in their uniforms for the last time.

Daichi's gone home already. He'd left earlier, after making his goodbyes round school; he's got family to spend time with, errands to run, all manner of last-minute things to attend to.

Leaving seems like an awfully troublesome business.

"Let's get _nikuman_ ," says Suga. "My treat."

Hinata punches his fist in the air with a loud whoop. "All _right_! I'll have three!"

Kageyama smacks him on the side of his head. "You can't eat _three_ , you dumbass."

And Suga smiles, feeling warmth on his face, like he's caught some of the sunshine from Hinata's irrepressible answering grin.

_What do you want?_

_I want -_

Things to stay like this, thinks Suga. He wants some things to never end. But if they have to -

Then, perhaps, what he wants is not the ability to stop and freeze time, but the grace to accept the flow of it, and the courage to go on facing his problems.

He thinks, perhaps, that much he can manage.

 

* * *

 

It is a universal rule of life that the exact item of stationery you need _always_ eludes you at _exactly_ the time you need it.

Suga, in a frantic hurry, turns his house upside down looking for a pair of scissors and there is not a single one to be found; he feels increasingly foolish as the minutes tick on, and he briefly considers abandoning the entire idea.

He curses his own stubbornness under his breath as he steels himself, makes do without scissors, pulls on his jacket and runs as fast as he can through the night, towards the station.

 _Wait for me, Daichi,_ he texts as he leaves home, and prays to high heaven that Daichi's not too overwhelmed to check his phone, that he's even got his phone in his pocket - oh god, what if it's in his bag and he's not looking at it, what if he thinks Suga's decision is -

A blast of cold air his Suga in the face as he runs downhill, picks up speed. The tread of his sneakers is sure and firm. He knows these paths. He knows what he's doing. It's going to be okay.

He thinks, though, that if he misses Daichi because someone misplaced his _household stationery_ , he's going to spend the rest of the week sullenly pouting at the universe's sense of humour.

Thankfully, the universe is spared a Suga-sized tantrum; as he springs up the stairs, taking the steps two by two, he sees a familiar olive green coat with an oversized suitcase next to him.

There's no one else on the platform. He's the last of the farewells.

"Daichi."

It's all he manages to breathe out, before doubling over, winded, panting heavily.

Daichi turns around. His eyes widen.

"Suga," he says, and his voice is filled with a quiet wonderment that makes Suga think, no one else in the world has ever said his name before, not like this.

Suga opens his mouth to try and say something worthwhile in response.

What comes out instead is a long, unsteady exhale.

He hears the sound of the train in the distance, pulling into the platform. There's no more time. There's no time for him to recover his breath. There's no time for him to say anything at all.

He reaches into his pocket, grabs hold of what lies inside, and holds his clenched fist out towards Daichi.

He straightens up slowly. Unfurls his fingers.

There, in the heart of his palm, sits the second button on his _gakuran_ , metallic gold shining under the dim lights of the station platform, frayed, hastily snapped threads still trailing from the back of the button where he'd ripped it off quickly.

"For you," says Suga, then kicks himself mentally for wasting his precious few words in this moment on something so obvious. _Obviously_ it's for Daichi. There's no one else, either on this platform, or in the whole of this station, this _prefecture_ , that Suga would give this to. He knows this. Daichi, _really_ , had better know this as well, or he certainly didn't _deserve_ this damned button, thinks Suga as he meets Daichi's calm gaze.

There's a spark dancing in those dark eyes, brighter than the reflection of the buzzing halogen lamps above their heads.

Suga smiles. Takes a deep breath, tries to say something appropriate and maybe even a little bit  _romantic_ , and ends up with -

"Well, Daichi, if you're just going to _stare_ like that..."

 _Smooth_ , he thinks,  _real smooth_.

The train pulls into the platform. The doors slide open, and the PA system announces its arrival, and imminent departure in a few minutes.

Daichi doesn't hesitate. He takes the button with a firm grasp.

He tucks it away in the inner pocket of his coat, and even as he's reaching for his suitcase with one hand, he's reaching out, out towards Suga with the other, and Suga's in such a hurry hurry _hurry_ that he nearly trips over his own feet closing the distance between them, planting his palms full on the broad, comforting weight of Daichi's chest to keep from falling -

Daichi catches him, hand firm in the small of his back, and suddenly Suga is laughing.

"This is so _shoujo_ ," he says.

" _You're_ no _shoujo_ heroine," says Daichi, wrinkling his nose and grinning at Suga. "You're sweaty."

"I've been _running_ ," Suga protests haughtily.

"I'm going to kiss you anyway," says Daichi, and does, and Suga's knees go weak all over again as he thinks, Sawamura Daichi has no business kissing people when they're gross like this and he's about to get on a train to Tokyo and leave them behind and that'll be his last memory of them together right here, that he was holding Sugawara Koushi in one arm and his suitcase in another, tasting the salt of sweat on his lips.

It seems to last forever, and not long enough.

Daichi boards the train just a second before the doors close.

He doesn't do that thing where he presses himself to the window, watches Suga recede on the horizon as his little town grows smaller behind him. He settles into his seat, and keeps his gaze fixed forward.

Suga, on his part, doesn't do that thing where he hangs around till he can't see the train anymore.

He turns around once Daichi's sitting down, heads down the stairs, and goes home.

Today's been a long day. Tomorrow is a new one.

Tomorrow, Daichi will probably text him about his apartment in Tokyo, and maybe send him photos, and tomorrow, Suga will slowly housekeep his room and all his stuff from high school. He's got his own preparations to make.

Tomorrow, they will walk into the future, hand in hand, because this is what Suga wants. He is _selfish_ , after all, about certain things. He'll fight the world for it if he has to, with the brightest of smiles.

And as he walks up the hill towards his home, he feels his pocket light and empty, and his heart is full of the certainty that Daichi will be fighting right next to him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is kinda my first real stab at Daisuga, eeek. I've written one before that's a remix of one of tothemoon's wonderful fics, but this is the first time I've tried writing them on my own. And it turned into a sort of Suga character study because he's so fascinating. I hope I managed to bring out some of his complexity and the lovely, comfortable relationship these two have :x
> 
> I'm also a sucker for leaving-on-a-train trope, so uhhh, I apologise for that cheese.
> 
> The second button thing is a graduation day tradition in Japanese high schools. Guys give it to the person they like ♥
> 
> Thank you for reading! You can come talk to me @nahyutas on Twitter :)


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